


Good To Me, Good For Me

by preciouslittletime



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Crying, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, M/M, Overstimulation, Porn but also tenderness, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciouslittletime/pseuds/preciouslittletime
Summary: Seokmin has always had a hard time saying no to Mingyu. Always.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 22
Kudos: 216





	Good To Me, Good For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo last night [somebody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmabs) decided to make a thread about face sitting and it set twitter on fire. Couldn't get it out of my head that Mingyu likes to get messy. Then there was talk about the Seokmin crying agenda...
> 
> Anyways, here we are. I didn't meant for this to be as lovey-dovey as it came out being, but I really do think these two would be very intense with each other.
> 
> Unbeta'd

Loving Mingyu is overwhelming and it hasn’t stopped being overwhelming in the 363 days they’ve been together.

They have their first apartment together. It’s six months after signing the lease and monotony has never been so comfortable. Seokmin makes dinner in the broom-closet kitchen, Mingyu fusses over the throw pillows looking _just right_ on their hand-me-down couch, there’s Mingyu’s photography all over the walls, their bed is warm even though the radiator in the room hardly works. They’re loud enough to get noise complaints from the upstairs neighbors and they’re quiet enough that the clock in the living room reverberates off the brick.

Seokmin hears it from all sides, from his parents and from their friends, that he’s too young to be this in love and that they haven’t been dating long enough to be getting married. But Seokmin’s heart has always been too big for his own good and Mingyu fills too much of it for him not to have proposed. 

And Mingyu is decisive and intense. He’s not the type of person to apply logic when Seokmin is already being illogical about the path of the relationship. Seokmin is overly romantic, borderline obsessive, Mingyu acts like a lightning rod, directing the energy right back tenfold. They fall too hard and too fast and keep falling and falling and falling.

It’s 10:30 P.M. on a Friday night and they’re tangled on their bed after a four-hour nap and shower, wet hair messing up the pillows. Mingyu’s long tree trunk legs a weight on Seokmin’s, comfortable restriction that Seokmin can’t get enough of. He lays his head back on Mingyu’s chest, letting Mingyu card warm hands through his wet hair. All they’ve done today is sleep after work and play fight while they cook dinner. Mingyu shatters a plate when he tries to pull Seokmin away from the stove in both arms, Seokmin bruises his knee falling on the floor from laughing so hard.

But now they’ve settled in to calm, because Mingyu has been doting on him like he has no idea what Seokmin’s skin feels like under the pads of his fingertips. He slides them back and forth over Seokmin’s jaw, over the natural part of his hair, across his eyelashes, over his mouth. Seokmin worries every day that Mingyu will get bored with him, that one person can’t possibly love him as much as Mingyu does. He’s constantly proven wrong.

Seokmin chases his fingertips when they get close enough to kiss, smiles so Mingyu's thumb bounces over the ridges of his teeth. Gentle reminders that he doesn’t want Mingyu to stop, that Mingyu touching him makes him feel like something precious, that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than between Mingyu’s thighs and lying on his chest and letting Mingyu show him with actions and not with words that he’s wanted.

He’s vaguely aware that Mingyu is speaking, and he’s embarrassed to be ignoring him. But the pathways of Mingyu’s fingers are engraved on his skin like tattoos. And Mingyu should know by now that he can’t casually ramble about his day when he’s being this tender. 

Too intense, not enough awareness, the Kim Mingyu way.

“Are you listening to me?” Mingyu frowns. 

“Sorry,” Seokmin says with a wide smile. He blushes, nudges his nose against Mingyu’s wrist. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, am I?” Mingyu chuckles. Seokmin’s eyes flutter shut as Mingyu leans down to kiss him. More than just a kiss. Mingyu’s lips are warm and plush and he licks into Seokmin’s mouth without warning. Seokmin rolls Mingyu onto his back in response, climbs over him to sigh against his lips.

He could lose track of entire days doing this. Entire weeks. He pulls away with a grin. “I figured you’d be too tired. I thought you wanted to go to sleep.”

Mingyu shrugs, boyish, cocky grin on his perfect face. “I’m tired, but…”

“But?”

“Can I eat you out?” Mingyu asks, eyes starry as they search Seokmin’s. He traces the backs of his knuckles over Seokmin’s cheek, across the seam of his wet mouth. Seokmin feels like his bones turn to liquid.

Because, he knows. He knows what this means. Mingyu unleashes radiant love on him like a flashbang. Blinding and sharp and disorienting. 

“Yeah,” Seokmin squirms, blinking fast and lips cracking in a nervous smile. “You expect me to say no to that?”

“I like doing it though,” Mingyu says. “It’s obviously...for you but…”

Seokmin laces their fingers together, squeezing Mingyu’s between his own. “I mean I obviously like when you do it, too. _Obviously_.”

Mingyu beams and falls into a single-minded focus to remove Seokmin’s clothes. He’s so gentle with Seokmin like he thinks Seokmin will break like fine china in his hands. Realistically, Mingyu could break him, regardless of how bulky Seokmin has become over the years. Seokmin has seen him when he doesn’t hold back, so even when his big hands pull too hard at the waistband of Seokmin’s underwear, it feels featherlight compared to what he knows Mingyu is capable of. Even when Mingyu is gentle his touches are still bordering on too strong, too demanding.

“You’re already so hard,” Mingyu marvels, sliding a dry palm up Seokmin’s length. The sensation punches a gasp out of Seokmin’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Seokmin sighs, arching into the touch. “For you.” 

Mingyu takes a moment to look pleased with himself and Seokmin laughs at the way he preens. It’s a perfect balance in the relationship; Seokmin’s body has always been responsive and Mingyu takes it so personally when somebody responds to him positively, whatever the case may be. 

Seokmin spreads his legs as Mingyu sinks lower, pushing up Seokmin’s thighs until his knees hit the mattress. He can barely just see the crease of Mingyu’s forehead when he leans in to press the flat of his tongue against Seokmin’s hole. It makes him feel fizzy, like carbonation, and he laughs and squirms and Mingyu licks a few more times to get him wet. 

“You want to sit on my face?” he asks, biting into Seokmin’s inner thigh where he knows it’ll draw out a reaction. Seokmin jolts and yelps, grasping Mingyu’s hair for stability so he doesn’t fly up off the bed and hit the ceiling.

“Can I?” Seokmin gasps out. Mingyu nods against his skin, nose hitting under his balls and making him twitch.

“You know it’s my favorite.”

Seokmin crawls away as best as he can and Mingyu flops gracelessly against the mattress. He shoves the pillows aside, all the blankets, everything off the bed so it falls in a heap on the floor. Seokmin turns and sees Mingyu panting already, overexcited and giddy as if Seokmin riding his face is somehow a treat for him and not the other way around.

This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, so Seokmin knows that it’s at least half true. Mingyu likes it - no, _loves_ it when Seokmin sits on his face. Enough that he constantly asks for it, and Seokmin would let him do it every day if it didn’t make him feel like he was losing brain cells every time he did. But Seokmin lacks self-preservation skills, so it happens bi-weekly, at the least.

The room is already stiflingly hot when Seokmin scoots on his knees to settle over Mingyu’s face. There’s a crackling sort of energy, like an electrical storm making static in the air. Seokmin’s hair on his arms is standing on end, heart racing, stomach flipping over and over on itself like a taffy machine. 

Mingyu is slack jawed under him and settles hands on Seokmin’s hips so he can drag him closer to his parted lips. He arches his chin up and licks under Seokmin’s cock like he’s trying to entice him, as if Seokmin needed an incentive. Seokmin laughs as he’s yanked forward even harder, Mingyu’s strength knocking him off balance. He grabs hold of the headboard, so he doesn’t topple over.

Seokmin sighs and Mingyu groans when Seokmin lowers himself down onto Mingyu’s face, thighs bracketing Mingyu’s head. Once upon a time he was self-conscious of his thighs, but nothing compares to when Mingyu’s is digging his fingers into the plush meat of them to hold him steady. A perfect frame to artwork of Mingyu’s stunning features twisting up to trace the tip of his tongue around Seokmin’s rim. 

“Ah, Gyu,” Seokmin laughs breathlessly. He readjusts himself and Mingyu disappears under him. 

The feeling of it is inexplicable. Mingyu kisses him chastely like he did when they had their first kiss. Just the slightest brush of lips. A sprinkling of pecking kisses like they do in passing, innocuous and sweet. Then he can hear the wet sound of Mingyu licking his lips, the smack of his tongue and the feeling of him lathing his tongue back and forth over his hole. The sensations alternate and Seokmin’s thighs are already shaking less than two minutes in. He braces himself, knows Mingyu doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

Seokmin shudders, grabs hold of Mingyu’s hair with one hand and rocks his hips gently back and forth over the flat of his tongue. He hiccups out a moan and Mingyu writhes on the bed underneath him. Mingyu slides both of his hands over the curve of Seokmin’s ass to his hips, moving them in encouragement. 

And it’s filthy - or at least it should be. Seokmin grinding his ass down on Mingyu’s tongue and the sloppy sounds it makes and the way he can feel Mingyu’s moaning at the base of his spine. He rocks his hips slowly, fingers spasming on the headboard and Mingyu leans away to take a breath. He bites into Seokmin’s thighs and groans, Seokmin can feel the wetness on his chin as it nudges up against his skin. 

“It feels so good,” Seokmin mumbles. “Oh my god, Gyu. Come on.” 

“You taste so good,” Mingyu says between wet kisses. “I love it when you ride my face.”

Precome drops onto Mingyu’s cheek and Mingyu takes his hands away from Seokmin’s hips to swipe it away with his finger, sucks it off with a pop. Without Mingyu there to hold him, Seokmin falls backwards onto Mingyu’s chest. His legs are weak control of his body suddenly gone just from the smallest amount of foreplay. 

Mingyu’s face is glistening with his own saliva, cheeks ruddy and hair still damp from his shower. His lips are swollen and he’s winded already. Seokmin can hear both their harsh breaths mingling, even over the way his ears are ringing.

“Turn around,” Mingyu says and Seokmin groans. 

“I can’t,” he complains. Laughing dazedly. “My legs are jelly. Just...can you fuck me? Please, Gyu.”

Mingyu hums slides his palms down over the expanse of his thighs to comfort him. “Please,” he asks earnestly. “I want to keep going. I want to make you come on my tongue.”

Seokmin’s bones catch fire, disintegrating, making him feel even more out of control. He whines and Mingyu licks his lips, eyes dark, hands making tight little demanding circles on Seokmin’s thighs. He brushes a thumb upwards, pressing it against Seokmin’s hole, using his own spit to push it inside. Seokmin throws his head back, pushing down onto it as best he can.

“Please,” Mingyu asks again, practically begging. “Please. I want to make you feel good.”

Seokmin has always had a hard time saying no to Mingyu. Always.

He manages to get back up on his knees and with Mingyu’s help he swings his legs around, repositioning himself so he’s facing away from Mingyu. Mingyu clutches his hips immediately and pulls him backwards. Seokmin shouts and laughs, melts into him again when Mingyu starts tonguing over him like he hadn’t even paused.

Mingyu grips his ass, presses his tongue against the resistance of his rim, insistent pumps to get him to relax and open for him. Seokmin’s head spins, the room spins. His head lolls down between his shoulders just to watch his own cock twitch pathetically between his legs. Mingyu doubles down, spreading him even wider and making such a mess Seokmin can feel it dripping down his legs.

“Ah, fuck.” Seokmin hisses and takes hold of Mingyu’s knees. He can see how hard Mingyu is in his pajama pants. He reaches down to touch him, just to offer some relief, but Mingyu slaps his hand away. 

“G-gyu,” he whines. “You’re...just let me.” He can hardly formulate a sentence anymore. 

Mingyu hums, shakes his head and lets the flat of his tongue ruck back and forth across Seokmin. And when Seokmin reaches for him again, Mingyu takes hold of both of his arms, yanking them backwards behind Seokmin and pressing them against his lower back. 

Seokmin has always had a weakness for being manhandled, Mingyu figured that one out on their fifth date. He uses it against him constantly. Mingyu’s harsh grip keeping Seokmin’s arms in place has him keening without dignity and rucking downward unconsciously, little jolts of surprise each time Mingyu’s tongue catches on his rim. Mingyu just moans at the sensation, switches to hold both of Seokmin’s wrists in one hand and uses the other to guide Seokmin’s hips to fuck back on his tongue.

It is _immediately_ too much. Seokmin feels like the room contracts, oppressive and startling. His entire body twitches each time Mingyu spears him open. He scrambles against Mingyu’s grip on him, clawing at his own forearms as he garbles out something like a plea. 

“G-gyu. Pl -- It’s t -- It’s...too much.”

Mingyu groans louder than before, becomes even _more_ insistent and Seokmin practically yells when he feels Mingyu’s hand, slick with spit, come to encircle his cock. Seokmin manages to get one arm free just enough to slip Mingyu’s grip and he brings that arm down behind him to grab Mingyu’s hair. 

He should be pulling him away, really. He should be taking a fistful of Mingyu’s hair and yanking him backwards so his tongue isn’t fucking him open so good that he feels tears prickling at his eyes, a sob itching in his throat. 

Instead he uses it as leverage to swivel his hips down on Mingyu’s tongue and they both shout at the feeling. Seokmin is too sensitive. Seokmin has always known it. Mingyu’s always known it. Seokmin outright cried the first time they had sex, Mingyu’s cock buried in him on the floor of his dorm room after their second date. Mingyu had pulled away the second he saw the first tear roll down his cheek. Seokmin had told him to keep going. It had set a precedent.

Seokmin is fully crying at Mingyu eating him out. Dignity stripped away more and more with each racking sob that shakes his body. Because it’s too good, too much, but _too good._ A perfect sort of self-destruction that has the tears falling off the edges of his cheeks and on to Mingyu’s shirt. A perfect feeling of being completely taken apart bit by bit until he’s raw and exposed. Mingyu guiding him through the feeling with a hand on his cock and another pressing into his side to keep the pace.

“It’s so good,” he says softly, voice tight. “Mingyu...it’s so good.”

Mingyu is rutting his own hips upwards, relying on the friction of his own sweats to get him closer. Seokmin finds that part of Mingyu to be one of the sexiest things about him. How much he gets off on making Seokmin feel like this. How much Mingyu just wants to give, service almost edging on greed, because when he gives, he doesn’t realize how much he’s actually taking. 

Seokmin can barely think. His head swims, his breath a staccato around his undignified crying, and Mingyu’s mouth is so relentless and slick that the world narrows in to all the points that their bodies touch. Seokmin practically screams when he comes, his own voice so distant in his own head that he can’t even really gauge how loud he’s being. Mingyu works him through it, tugging his hand down his shaft until Seokmin is shaking and pushing him away. 

He tries to move away from Mingyu’s tongue, too, but Mingyu grabs his hips and pulls him down again, lapping at him slowly. Seokmin struggles against him, but he’s outmatched. Mingyu is stronger and Seokmin is too weak after coming and every pass of Mingyu’s tongue makes his entire body spasm into compliance. 

All he can do is beg, really. A litany of _please, please, please_ that falls on deaf ears, because Mingyu’s mouth still sucking at him like plans to keep him there all night. Seokmin cries out again and he blinks away a fresh stream of tears as his mouth falls open. The over-sensitivity lapsing into something twice as strong as pleasure. A weightless feeling, a disconnect, like his brain is no longer handling complex thought and reduces down into raw feeling.

Seokmin would be afraid of it if it wasn’t Mingyu the one to push him to this point. To the singularity of being in love, to sheer want, to making each other feel good.

Seokmin scrambles his hands downwards and pushes Mingyu’s sweats down over his cock. He’s a mess of precome against the material and Seokmin takes hold of him, using it to ease the glide of his palm. Mingyu arches off the bed, moans and lets Seokmin work him into finishing. 

It doesn’t take much and if Seokmin’s brain wasn’t in base instinct mode he might have been able to dwell on how close Mingyu had gotten just from Seokmin riding his face. Instead he dwells on Mingyu’s puffs of breath against his hole, the way Mingyu leans away when he comes. He knows just the way his face must look without seeing it. Silent, lip caught between his teeth and eyes screwed shut, jaw jutted out until the first wave passes.

Mingyu sighs, tension leaving his body in a rush and Seokmin is finally free to roll off of him indelicately. He rests against the wall, legs still halfway over Mingyu’s torso. Mingyu’s eyes are still closed, chest heaving, face utterly debauched with the amount of spit he’s got all over it. Again, things that should be disgusting, but _definitely_ are not.

Mingyu smiles, sated, and he blinks slowly to look at Seokmin. The second they make eye contact, Seokmin bursts into laughter and Mingyu grabs hold of his knee, deep bassy laugh harmonizing with Seokmin’s, sharp and high.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says. “I should have stopped. Did I make you cry?”

Seokmin keeps laughing, heart thudding. “Clearly I didn’t want you to.” He digs his heel in to Mingyu’s side. “And yes, you did make me cry? I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Mm…” Mingyu closes his eyes. “I really love doing that.”

Seokmin smiles until his eyes crinkle up. “What? Making me cry or eating me out?” 

Mingyu hums. “Both.” He grips Seokmin’s ankle, running his thumb in comforting revolutions around the knob of the bone. “I love you. I love making you feel good. Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Good?” Mingyu’s eyes open then, earnest and soft.

For all the confidence he ought to have, he constantly needs reassurance. As if Seokmin’s come drying all over his shirt wasn’t enough to show he enjoyed it. But, Seokmin loves Mingyu enough to tell him he’s good every hour of every day for the rest of their lives if Mingyu wants. Even with the expectation that it will never be enough, that Mingyu will never quite believe him enough for the thought to stick. 

Seokmin leans down as best as he can to kiss Mingyu’s slick mouth. He pets his hair. “So good. You’re so good, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu’s face softens. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you, too.” Seokmin rubs a hand down Mingyu’s chin. “Even when you make a mess.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lithomancy) / [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/lithomancy)


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